Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad
So I had one more for dessert

Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my mind the night before
The cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playin' with a can that he was kicking

Then I walked across the street
Caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
Lord, it took me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way

'Cause on the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's nothing like a Sunday
That makes the body feel alone

And there's nothin' short of dyin'
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin' city sidewalks
And Sunday mornin' comin' down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the song that they were singin'

Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away, a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the canyons
Like a disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's nothing like a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone

And there's nothin' short of dyin'
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin' city sidewalks
And Sunday mornin' comin' down